In the afternoon, there is a secret meeting that takes place at the school grounds. A squad of kids gather, jumping over the fencing with joyous screams and laughter that could sometimes be heard from two blocks down. Almost always, there is one that carries a beaten up ball to play football, and sometimes even a knock-off version of basketball.
The local playground doesn't have enough space for the sports they play, so they make do with that.
Parrot is usually amongst these kids and he just so happens to be amongst them today. After ridding himself of the curse of homework (by that, he means threatening Xisuma with his gun again –it's a Friday for God's sake), he left the house and ran straight back to school. Upon his arrival, there were about five of his friends in the yard chatting and making funny faces at each other.
"Parrot!", his closest friend, Spoke, yells as Parrot flies over the iron fence –that's wing privileges.
Spoke, in all his shadow-y glory, runs up to Parrot right as he lands on the worn and cracked tiles. The ends of his rainbow bandana trail after him.
"Hey, Spoke", he greets his friend, doing the incredibly complex handshake-fist bump-half hug that is the code between them and the rest of their friends. No one else knows of it, which is why it is the only way for an outsider to be initiated into their group of (what most people call) delinquents. "Is everyone here?"
Spoke does a so-so gesture with his hand. "Almost everyone, we're waiting on Mapic and Pangi. Now, come on!", he shouts excitedly and Parrot laughs as he is led to the rest of the children who are still standing in a circle.
Mapic and Pangi don't go to this school, seeing as they live a long way away from the neighborhood. That is the reason as to why they're always late to their gatherings. They both have parents to answer to, so that also adds to why they don't come right after the bell rings for the end of the school day. That also leads to the actual game of football to start late but it's always more fun when they're all playing together –even though Mapic is too fast to catch up to and Pangi accidentally scratches everyone with his claws.
Out of the corner of his eye, he sees something move on the other side of the school window. Huh. Weird. Usually, there is no one inside except for the principal at this time. Maybe it's just the cleaning lady; she's very nice and she usually sticks around to watch their match during her break. If it were anyone else, they'd probably get chased out of the school grounds every other day.
"Let's do a warm-up match till Mapic and Pangi get here!", one of Parrot's classmates, Ro, shouts, the five white-gloved hands that float around the boy's head waving around in a show of enthusiasm. Some of the others match him in volume and Parrot's wings ruffle.
The teams are decided easily enough with an even number of players on each side and they split the yard. Parrot is the goalie of his team and Spoke shoots him a thumbs up as he runs towards the center. To be fair, none of them know much about football outside of kicking the ball and not using their abilities and hybrid traits to get the upper hand –like that one time that Parrot hit someone square in the face with a wing.
It was written off as an accident but the guy totally deserved it. Said guy hasn't shown his face in the neighborhood in weeks and that could either be bad or bad -bad.
"Let's go, Spoke!", he yells right before the referee –a teenage boy named Zam from the neighboring middle school– signals for the start of the match.
The whole game is filled with the amount of concentration required for a History test. There is a lot of talking –and much more of shit-talking that would make Xisuma frown, Parrot notes absentmindedly– but everyone remains focused on stealing and exchanging the white and black ball regardless. There is a lot of laughing and a lot of sweat, and Parrot has accumulated a lot of scratches and scrapes on his arms and knees from diving to push the ball away from the notional net's boundaries by the time he gets a chance to catch his breath.
If there is one thing that Parrot is good at, it's being the goalkeeper. The ball rarely escapes his keen avian eyesight and equally impressive reflexes. That is thankfully an attribute that can't be shut down, so everyone has to try extra hard just to get the right angle to shoot the ball at him. No one has complained about it yet, surely because he makes one heck of a goalie!
"Hey, guys!", comes a shout from outside the gate. Parrot looks away from the game for a split second. Pangi and Mapic are there with some bags in their hands and Zam races across the yard to help them pass everything over the iron fence.
Within that split second, however, the other boys have apparently managed to send the ball through one of the school's windows; evident by the missing ball, the missing window pane and the very audible glass-shattering sound. This day couldn't get any worse. God, hopefully the cleaning lady won't mind too much.
"Fuck! What did you guys do?!", Zam hisses at the kid who kicked the ball that high. He's always stressed over these things, seeing as he's the closest one to adulthood in their little group of troublemakers. "We can't go in there to get the ball, we're already trespassing."
Terrain, the one who brought the ball this time, looks like he's going to throw a fit, a mist of dirt slowly forming at his feet. At the same time, Mapic and Pangi have made it over the fence and the latter rushes to Terrain's side in an attempt to comfort him about his lost ball.
"I'll get it!", Parrot says. Zam turns to look at him with a conflicted look in his amber eyes, his short, bright blond hair frizzled with static electricity.
"No, Parrot–"
"I'll get in and out within a minute, dude, don't worry!", the avian replies, already approaching the window they'd just ruined. "Besides, it's just the cleaning lady inside."
"I don't think that's a good idea.",yet Zam relents in the end with a tired sigh. One look at Terrain's frustration would do that to a person.
Parrot nods with a smile and flaps his wings until he's up to the window. He lands stiffly on the protruding ledge, very careful to not scratch his hands or wings on the shattered edges of glass that still remain. He places a hand in front of him, cursing his inability to see glass, and almost tumbling inside the school when he doesn't come into contact with anything solid.
Glass cracks and crunches under the soles of his shoes once he's on steady ground. The hallway is empty and eerily quiet –as it should be afterhours. There is not a soul in sight and if worse comes to worst, he'll get chided by the cleaning lady. Not a bad price to pay but it would suck if they all got in trouble for this unfortunate accident.
Looking up and down the hall, he finds that the ball is nowhere to be found on the ground. All doors are locked, so it couldn't have gone into a classroom –at least not without breaking through sturdy wood. Then... He looks at the staircase near him. One way goes up to the roof, the way blocked by a heavy, metal door, and the other goes down to the ground floor, where the cleaning lady is certainly waiting for him to go and get the ball and an earful.
"Miss Pearl?", he asks loudly enough for his words to echo down the stairs as he descends them. No reply.
He looks over the half wall railing on the way down but yet again finds no one. Well, he can't return empty-handed, that's just not good, especially with Terrain's deadly look and his growing cloud of dirt.
He carefully goes down the rest of the steps, wings half-splayed behind him in case he needs to flee. He can't help the goosebumps running up his arms; the place gives him the creeps when it's lifeless like this.
"Hello?", he calls out but no reply comes. He hates this. The cleaning lady has never done this. The situation is ultimately suspicious. Where has the ball gone?
Seeing no reason to wonder about such trivial matters, the boy starts looking through the various cabinets lining the wall opposite of the classrooms. There is no way that the ball just went up and disappeared! It must be around here somewhere, probably hiding in a noon between one of these cabinets or it rolled down another hall or–
"What are you doing in my school?"
Parrot stops moving, stops breathing even. The cupboard in front of him remains open, various maps rolling out from within and spilling messily on the floor. That– There shouldn't be a soul of a teacher within the building and please, for the love of God, please tell him that isn't who he thinks it is–
"Parrot? I'm talking to you, young man."
Oh, it is definitely him. Fuck. It isn't even his school, why–
Slowly, he turns his head, taking a step back from the mess of paper on the floor, and raises his head to meet the eyes of an incredibly furious Mr. Marriott. This is definitely not good. As much as he dislikes the guy, though, he can't leave without retrieving the ball. Maybe if he just explains the situation, the teacher will let him go without notifying Xisuma about what has happened.
Sure, he could threaten Xisuma in the case of his faux parent attempting to ground him but the disappointed look in his face makes his guts twist like ribbons.
"Uhm, hello Mr. Marriott, I'm just here to get our ball back–"
"How did you even get in here?", Mr. Marriott asks and what should he answer? Every response is bound to get him in trouble!
So, the only way out is to dip . He runs off, down the first hallway he sees and he can hear the teacher yell obscenities at him. A second later, there is a pair of heavy footsteps thudding behind him and he tries to make his legs run even faster as he dives left in the cross-section of halls. His wings hinder him on the turn, making him stumble and trip over his own legs. A gasp escapes him as he lands chest-first on the hard floor, wheezing as he struggles to get up.
"If you are the reason for me being late to dinner with my wife, I will beat you to a pulp, Parrot!"
That threat has Parrot up and running for the hills within n instant. Mr. Marriott isn't the most sane teacher in the school and that is a fact. Oftentimes, he brings up the topic of his (failing) marriage in the middle of the lesson when any sort of memory of his wife is triggered. Some of his classmates believe that his wife isn't even real and that he's delusional. Parrot thinks that the fact doesn't make the guy any less scary and dangerous –he's seen his fair share of dangerous people and he'd recognize that crazy glint of the eye anywhere.
Why is he even being chased with a chance to be beaten? He didn't even know that the guy had plans with his wife! Hiding in a nook between walls, Parrot squeezes his wings, hearing the bones groan in the arms and his ribbones pressing inside his torso. This is the worst hiding spot he could've found.
"Ugh–", he struggles to fit himself with the extra limbs on his back. He eyes the corridor he's ended up in and– Oh my god, it's there! The ball is right at the end of it! He can barely make it out from where he is but it's there .
All that needs to happen is for Mr. Marriott to pass by and he can go grab it. That's it. He'll be out and away soon! He breathes out a quiet sigh of relief.
"Huh? What are you doing here?! You whippersnappers, get back here!"
Parrot's eyes widened. One of the others must've heard the commotion and come to check out the situation. Hopefully, one of them is Spoke. There is a sound of something falling not too far away, a thud echoing and a struggle following. Okay then, hopefully one of them isn't Spoke.
He decides that the distraction is enough to dash to the other end of the corridor and grab the ball, so he does just that. The floor is a little slippery but he manages to stay on his feet and he makes it without a hitch.
"Parrot!", it's Zam. It's Zam holding back the teacher, wrestling with the guy and coming to a stalemate. "Get the fuck out of here!"
With a nod, Parrot grabs the ball and runs.
He barely hears the grunt of pain resounding through the hallway and when he chances a look over his shoulder, he sees Zam running after him with a wild, panicked look on his face –Mr. Marriott is hunched over where the two were wrestling.
Guess Mr. Marriott won't make it to his dinner with his wife. Parrot can't bring himself to care after all of this.